The Quarterback Ch. 01

It was close to the end of my tenure with Buffalo that my love life would be sabotaged again. And you guessed it, Jimmy was the cause. But for a time, I thought I had found a woman I loved almost as much as I had loved Staci.

All this time, I thought that Jimmy was just targeting me. But I learned about his many affairs and the two divorces he caused. In my mind, Jimmy was a piece of crap, and I was waiting for someone to squash him like a bug. But somehow, he kept messing with people's lives, and nothing bad ever seemed to happen to him. One day his payback had to happen, and I just hoped I would be there to see it.

During my first two years in the league, dating became surreal. Somehow, I missed out on the dating scene in high school. I did better in college but always seemed pressed for time between football and my classes. My sex life in college was good, but it exploded when I made the Steelers.

I found that as a professional football player, I could have a date for any night or day I wanted. And this carried over for every season I played in the NFL. Unfortunately, most women chasing athletes were not anyone you wanted to bring home to mom. However, at first, I thought it was great; all the sex you want. But after a while, having sex with someone you have no real feelings for starts to get old. I did, however, date some interesting women.

I dated four or five models and had eight or nine dates with Miss Colorado, Sandra Fulsome. She was beautiful and fun. Also, she was not one of the groupie types looking to jump into bed. I started to get interested until we had sex. The next day, she started talking about us getting married. I thought that was rushing things a tad. Besides, Sandra became possessive, jealous, and demanding after our night in bed. I quickly broke up with her and braced for the blowback. But it never came. Instead, Sandra shifted gears and began going out with Lance Turbin, one of our linebackers. Lance and Sandra were married three months after that, only to be divorced eight months later. Despite her great outward appearance, Sandra was a certifiable nutjob.

During my short stint in Tennessee, I was introduced to Wendy Worthington, who would become my fiancé. She was a true southern belle. Her light brown hair and soft brown eyes had gotten my full attention. Her eyes seemed to sparkle when she smiled. But I think it was her easy southern grace and accent that captivated me. She was petite at only five foot four but perfectly proportioned. Also, Wendy had a way about her that made me feel like I was the most important man in the world to her.

We started dating three days after I met her, but I figured the relationship was over when Tennessee cut me. But Wendy wanted to stay in touch. I did not think anything would come of it, but I had underestimated her determination. Her father was quite wealthy, owning a string of fitness clubs. In fact, he had franchised his clubs, "Worthington Fitness," and they were nationwide. At the time I met her, Wendy was the company's CFO. That was one of the things that Wendy and I had in common. We both had business degrees.

Long story short, Wendy convinced her father to let her work from Buffalo. Even though Wendy wanted to be exclusive, I was hesitant. I knew that Wendy changed boyfriends like most people change their socks. Besides, I was gun-shy after Miss Colorado.

But when Wendy arrived in Buffalo with six suitcases the first week of the season, I figured she was serious. I, naturally, assumed that Wendy would share my apartment. Instead, she opted to rent one of her own. Wendy's reason made sense. She would be working in the apartment and occasionally meeting with customers. In fact, she set it up more like an office than a true apartment. The living room was more like a reception area, with the second bedroom as her office. Wendy even hired an administrative assistant. Still, most nights, Wendy slept at my place.

Our relationship progressed, and we were engaged by the twelfth week of the season. We planned to be married the following July. But those plans fell apart rather quickly when I caught her cheating. As I mentioned, Wendy usually slept at my place, but on rare occasions, if she had to work late, I would sleep at her place. I never thought much about it at the time, but I was never given a key to her apartment. I should have been suspicious, but I was in love.

The Friday before the AFC Championship Game, the coach only had a walkthrough. We were finished by ten that morning, so with nothing to do, I hustled over to Wendy's office. As I got out of my car, I saw Wendy's administrative assistant pulling out of the parking garage. I was happy about that because it meant that Wendy would be alone.

I was going to ring the bell, but then I figured that her assistant had probably just gone on an errand and the door would be open. I walked in and headed for Wendy's office but stopped abruptly when I heard noises in the bedroom. Pushing the door open, I was stunned. Wendy's pussy was getting pounded by a black guy. I recognized him immediately as Darryl Hawks, the Tennessee Titans' starting strong safety.

I walked to the bed without saying a word and grabbed Wendy's left arm. I pulled the engagement ring off her finger as she was in mid-scream. For a second, I thought about beating the shit out of Darryl but figured it was not worth the effort.

"Oh, God no!" I heard Wendy wail. "Jason, please don't go. I can explain. Please, Jason, I love you."

I was almost to the door when I heard Darryl laugh. "Jimmy said you were nothing but white bread and a big loser. He told me that Wendy would spread her legs for me and that you were a pushover. He certainly was right on all scores."

At that moment, I said to myself, "Fuck it. I am going to smack that smug piece of shit."

I turned on a dime and went back. Darryl was surprised to see me turn around and tried to bolt out of bed. However, he got tangled in the blanket and fell to the floor. I did not hesitate; I kicked him as hard as I could in the mouth.

"Please, Jason, don't hurt him," Wendy yelled. "They'll arrest you."

In my anger, I had not thought about that. But I knew something about Darryl that would keep him quiet. He was even a bigger horndog than Jimmy, and Darryl had been involved in two messy scandals with married women. So, the team stuck a moral's clause in his contract that was stronger than the standard one. If he got messed up with another woman, they would cut him.

I stood over him as he sat there, dazed and holding his mouth. "Listen to me closely, you piece of shit. If you call the police, I will make such a stink about you sleeping with my fiancé that everybody in the sports world will know about it. Chances are the Titans would not like that. They probably would cut you. So, if you call the police, I may get arrested, but you will be out of football. Think about what you really want to do."

Darryl looked up at me and nodded. I realized that I had kicked one of his front teeth out. I know it sounds terrible, but that made me feel good. Then I turned to Wendy.

"Do not ever call me again. We are done," I spit out through gritted teeth.

The last thing I heard was Wendy sobbing her heart out, but I could not have cared less. The fact that Jimmy was involved in this hardened me to where there was no way I would ever take her back. Even though he had not been there, Jimmy played a major part in destroying another of my relationships. And it was good he wasn't around, or I definitely would be going to jail.

Wendy called, texted, emailed, and even sent me a telegram. I ignored them all. Even her father called me, but I didn't have the heart to tell him the truth, so I told him his daughter was too controlling. That he understood.

When I thought about it, I should not have been surprised that Wendy and Jimmy had been an item. Wendy's father had some sort of relationship with the Tennessee Titans. And Jimmy would have zeroed in on someone like Wendy.

Jimmy had been drafted by the Tennessee Titans, but after two seasons, they traded him to Arizona. As I said, I thought Arizona got a bargain. Granted, he did not have great hands, but he had an uncanny ability to get open. He was still good for five or six touchdowns a year, and he could make some big gains if he hung onto the ball. But talking to some of his fellow players, I learned that Jimmy was "a cancer" in the locker room. It galled me that he destroyed lives, but nothing happened to him.

As I drove away from Wendy's love nest, two emotions warred within me - burning anger and crushing betrayal. A lonely pain filled me. Fortunately, I had something to divert my attention from my troubles - the AFC Championship game.

The game actually did divert my misery for a few hours. Everyone thought it would be a close game, but Roger picked apart Denver's secondary. He threw three touchdowns in a 38 - 17 stomping of the Broncos. Even though I did not play a single down, I was as excited as anyone else on the team. That is the wonderful thing about playing a team sport; it's like being part of a family. And you always want the best for each member of your family.

The excitement carried over for me until the next day. Then the sadness and the pain of Wendy's betrayal consumed me. As wonderful as love is, having it ripped away from you is a pain I would not wish on anyone. Well, maybe I would wish it on Jimmy because he was the instrument of so much pain for dozens of other people and me. A couple of days later, I could put most of my pain aside as we prepared for the Super Bowl.

I have never understood why it is called "Super." It's just another championship game. Baseball is another sport that has over-hyped its championship game. I mean, "the World Series?" How can it be called that when only American teams participate? Whatever the reason they named this championship "Super," the people who ran it certainly hyped it to the extreme. For my present state of mind, this was ideal. There was so much hustle and bustle that I had little time to think about Wendy. Even as the third-string quarterback, I gave numerous interviews and had to attend one team event after another. Then there was the day-to-day preparation for the big game. Even though I was not part of the game plan, I prepared as though I was going to be the starting quarterback.

As game time approached, my mind was totally consumed with the contest about to commence. The oddsmakers had listed the Packers as slight favorites. But by halftime, a blowout of huge proportions appeared to be underway. Sadly, the Packers were blowing us out.

In the first quarter, Green Bay ran off a nine-play drive that ended in the first score. In a rare miscue, Roger threw a pick-six. Less than six minutes into the game, we were down 14 - 0.

Disaster struck on the very next series of downs for us. Roger tried to scramble when the pocket began to collapse, but when he tried to slide down, he caught a cleat, twisting his ankle. He had to be carried from the field. Drew immediately raced onto the field to take Roger's place, but two plays later, he threw an interception. Three plays after that, Green Bay scored again. On the ensuing kickoff, Ronnie Tanner fumbled the ball away. Green Bay struck immediately, and we were down 28 - 0.

The rest of the first half was a total lack of offense by us and another score by Green Bay. Halftime mercifully came. With a score of 35 - 0, we were totally humiliated. I settled into a very subdued locker room with the realization that no team in Super Bowl history had ever come back from a thirty-five-point deficit.

The coach said nothing for ten minutes as he read over a series of notes. Finally, he looked up and singled me out.

"Jason, you're starting the second half."

I looked around and saw my teammates nodding and smiling. Then I spotted Terry Schuster and Warren Porter. They had both been acquired at different times, but both played sparingly. Most of the time, they practiced with the second team as I did.

"Coach," I spoke quickly, "I'd like to use Terry and Warren."

"Brad and Jerry are better," he responded.

"That may be true," I continued to press, "but I've worked with Terry and Warren in practice almost all season. I know their moves."

The coach thought about that for a moment and then nodded. "Okay, we'll give it a try."

We had the ball at the start of the second half. Strangely, I was not nervous. I focused on each play as it was flashed in and executed it as best I could. With a precision that startled the Packers, we marched down the field and ended the drive with a field goal. The team's spirit started to rise.

The coaches' adjustments to the defense changed the game's complexion. They shut down the Packers on their first series and dominated them for the rest of the afternoon.

I led three drives of six, eight, and nine plays that ended in scores. The defense intercepted a pass and ran it in for another score. With a little less than two minutes, we were down 35 - 31. Having Terry and Warren in the game with me had been a good decision. Warren caught two touchdown passes, and Terry extended three scoring drives with five clutch catches.

We took over the ball at our own nine-yard line with a minute and nine seconds left. I immediately hit Warren with a twelve-yard pass, and he got out of bounds. The drive continued until it was fourth and eight at our forty-three-yard line. Then Terry came up big, grabbing a pass that was a little behind him for a nine-yard gain. Then we had to burn our second timeout.

With only twelve seconds to go and facing fourth down again, I had to hit Terry over the middle for a seven-yard pass and a first down. This put us on Green Bay's nine-yard line, but we had to use our last timeout. Now there were only three seconds left in the game. Time for one last pass.

When the ball was snapped, I scanned the field as Roger had taught me, but no one was open. Then I saw Terry open in the endzone and fired the ball. Just as the ball left my hand, I realized in horror that the safety had cut in front. He easily intercepted the pass. The game was over, and I had lost the Super Bowl.

No one else on the team saw it that way. I realized this when a television reporter asked me about the last drive, and I bluntly told him that we lost because of me. I explained that I should have seen the safety hanging back, waiting to pounce, but I didn't. Immediately, three teammates jumped into the interview and disputed my assertion that the loss was my fault. I can't tell you how much I appreciated them defending me.

Nevertheless, I still felt like I had let the team down. Apparently, management agreed with my assessment because I was cut two weeks later. No explanation was given; that's just how pro football works.

Over the following month, I had two good things happen and one not-so-good thing. The two good things were receiving my pay for the AFC Championship Game and the loser's share of the Super Bowl. Both together totaled $116,000, which I put with my financial advisor. The not-so-good news was that my agent called, informing me that my contract with him was up. Worse, he did not want to renew it. He gave me some bullshit about having too many clients and not being able to care for them all properly. In my mind, the truth was that he had landed three first-round draft picks the previous year, and he was trying to up his image by dropping marginal players.

Now, both my pro football career and my love life had totally cratered. In my mind, I felt the NFL was done with me, and my love life, at this point, was nonexistent. Worse, I felt that it was unlikely that either would be resurrected. I was to learn that I was wrong on both counts in a big way.

After the heartbreaking collapse of my love life and being released by the Buffalo Bills, I hit rock bottom. After three years in the NFL, I figured my chances of playing a fourth were between slim and none. So, I decided it was finally time to get serious about finding that real job I kept talking about. Even though my heart was not in it, I managed to set up three interviews. I had appointments with Ford Motor, Merrill Lynch, and a regional bank, First Century, which currently had branches in nine states.

I left my meeting with Ford Motor with the sense that no one there would even take a shit without consulting two other executives. My meeting with Merrill Lynch made me want to go home and take a shower. The meeting with First Century, however, was a real pleasure.

I met with Carl Domino, the Chairman of the Board and majority stockholder in the bank. Carl was a gregarious fifty-four-year-old man. Even though his hair was gray, he looked like a man ten years younger. Carl had built the bank from one branch in a storefront into a sixty-four-branch bank covering nine states. He wanted me to work on their marketing and expansion plans because he was already deep into planning an expansion into six more states. Ultimately, it was Carl's dream to go nationwide.

The annual salary offered was a tenth of my last contract with Buffalo. However, it would be steady, and I could see a real future. And there was another plus to the job, even though I did not realize it at the time. This new job would have me working with Charlotte Domino, Carl's daughter. She was the Executive Vice President for First Century. However, when I first met with her, I was ready to tell her to stuff the job.

Charlotte was a beautiful woman. I estimated her to be about five foot eight with long auburn hair and deep emerald eyes. After talking with her for only fifteen minutes, it was clearly apparent that she was not only beautiful but extremely intelligent. But Charlotte gave off an air of arrogance and entitlement. In short, she came off as a bitch.

I went away from the meeting with Mr. Domino feeling pretty good. The job they talked to me about had me fully involved with the expansion plans. When I got home, I did a detailed study of the First Century Bank. I read everything available online and asked my financial advisor to dig out everything he could about the company. I wanted to be prepared in case I was called back for a second interview. I admit that I was very intrigued by Century First's expansion plans.

A week later, Mr. Domino called to arrange a second interview. However, he assured me the job was mine and that the second interview was simply a formality. However, I was unhappy when I discovered the second interview would be with Charlotte alone. That feeling quickly escalated when the interview began. Charlotte started by telling me that she was vehemently opposed to hiring me. I was too stunned to say anything other than, "I'm sorry to hear that." I was allotted a thirty-minute meeting with Charlotte, most of which was taken up with her discussing what I would not be doing. From there, the meeting went downhill. Charlotte told me I would be working for her if I took the job. Without saying so, she made it very clear that she would not be pleasant to work for. I was shocked and angered by her attitude and tone.

"Look, I'm confused," I sought clarification, "I'll just be the new guy working on the expansion. Why would I be reporting to the Executive Vice President?"

"Because that's what my father wants," she said brusquely.

"Okay," I said. "I don't care whom I have to report to, but I still have many questions about this job."

"Unfortunately," Charlotte said as she glanced at her watch, "I don't have any more time to discuss it right now."

"Perhaps, we could have lunch or dinner sometime and discuss it in more detail."

"No, I wouldn't be interested in that," Charlotte's eyes flashed. "I do not date employees. All you need to understand is that you are being offered this job because you are a celebrity. All that will be expected of you is to smile and shake hands. If you can throw in an intelligent sentence here and there, that would be helpful."